


First Impressions

by Jubalii



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Destructive Dirt Boy Means Well, F/M, First Impressions, First Meetings, Meihem Valentine's Exchange, Things Are Going Up Junkrat, Which is to say... Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubalii/pseuds/Jubalii
Summary: Junkrat's never been good at first impressions... or second ones... or third ones, either. But a bad first impression may be the part of something good! Maybe?





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot was written for the Meihem Valentine's Day exchange on Tumblr. I was the Secret Santa for pcate, who asked for either a beach scene or a first meeting where Mei was antipathetic towards the lanky dirt boy. Of course, I tried my best to give them what they asked for! This is my first official fic for the Meihem fandom, despite being a fan for a long time. Hopefully, I'll have time to do more in the future!

“Hang on a sec, Roadie—damn thing’s _stuck_ —ah, you’re right; what’s another tear—”

Ana Amari paused at the end of the hallway, cocking her ear at the sound of rending fabric. _That doesn’t sound good…._ Changing course, she turned on her heel and stepped down a side hall towards the newer dorms, most of which were still empty. The newest recruits had been bunked there earlier, but aside from a cursory greeting when they arrived at Watchpoint Gibraltar she knew little about them. Winston had found them and convinced them to join the cause—or rather, had bribed them with plenty of money and amnesty as well as food and a roof over their heads.  

From the sounds of it, though, they seemed to be a bit of a handful already.

She stopped at the corner leading to the main hall, peering around it with her good eye and looking down to where the two men had been placed. The only thing she could see was a mattress, shoved into the hall; it was caught between the ceiling and the support beam opposite the door, and no matter how often the orange peg on the other side kicked at it, it didn’t seem to want to budge.

 She crept up to the mattress, slowly rising on her tiptoes to peer over the edge. The owner of the boot was the younger man, the so-called ‘demolitions expert’ that had made most, if not all, of the negotiations on their contract. He was scrawny, all ribs and cheekbones and chin with stringy muscles that were clearly made from necessity, rather than a good diet and healthy amount of exercise. In fact, nothing about him looked healthy at all, from his rusty metal appendages to the dotted melanoma barely visible beneath varying layers of caked-on grime. Even his skin had a strange, grayish pallor—thought that might have been a side effect from the radiation, or just soot that had worked its way into his pores.

He stared thoughtfully at the mattress, one finger drawing a line of dirt down the white pillowtop as he considered his next move. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, gauging the amount of space he had to work with, and saw her smiling down at him. Immediately he coiled, scurrying back defensively with a yelp of surprise and reaching to his side, finding nothing but air where there must have usually been a weapon. Then he seemed to recognize her, or at least realize that she meant no harm; his face twisted in a scowl.

“W’azza big idea, gram?” Flashes glittered in his charred orange irises as he narrowed his eyes. 

“Hello to you, too,” she responded blithely, tilting her head at him.

“Who’re you?”

“I’m _Ana_. We met this morning.” She reached down to dust the worst of the soot from the mattress. He blinked before rolling his shoulders in an easy shrug.

“Ah, sure…. Sorry, nan. Not too good with names.” He raised out of his crouch, still half-hunched over as he loped back to the mattress, and her. He eyed her, and she noticed that he seemed to be always moving _some_ part of his body, even if it was no more than a nervous tic. “I might get it… or I might not, ya can never tell. So, anyway!” He clapped his hands, the thud of his metal one sounding off-key. “Gotta get back to me work! Nice talkin’ to ya.” 

 “Wait just a minute.” She kept her hand on the mattress, her grip tightening. “Might I ask what you’re doing?”

“What’s it to ya?”

“Oh, I’m just curious.” She chuckled. “Old ladies like to be nosy. Think of it as an acquired hobby.”

“Well….” He looked down both ends of the hall before rising to his full height, eyes shifting suspiciously. Her eyebrows twitched in surprise as she suddenly found herself looking up at him. _With his bad posture, you’d never know how tall he is._ He leaned on the mattress, studying the nails of his false hand. “Between you and me, these rooms are too big.”

“Too—big?”

“Not that we’re complainers—Roadie and me are used to makin’ our own accommodations, y’know—”

“But….” She looked past him to the room, astonished. It was no larger than her own, or any other Overwatch operatives. In fact, _she_ considered 13 square meters to be on the smaller side. “You’re saying _that’s—”_

“Right, nan. Too big. I mean, how’s a bloke supposed to take a rest when there’s _all_ this open space?!” He waved both hands at the standard sized dorm. “Why, anyone could just waltz right in here and then _BLAMMO_!” His shriek echoed down both ends of the hall, hands waving wildly as he mimicked a nuclear-level explosion. “Lights out for Junkrat and Roadhog! Roadie agrees, don’t cha?” She turned to see his _large_ friend standing in the doorway of his own dorm, breathing heavily as he stared at them. Ana couldn’t tell exactly where his eyes were through the gas mask, but she met his gaze steadily until he turned his head.

“….” The man said nothing, but Junkrat slapped the mattress with his flesh hand and cackled wildly.

“ _Too_ right!” He wiped his eyes with one more hysterical giggle. “Anyway, ya see? Too big, ‘s what they are.”

“But…. Junkrat, was it?” She put her other hand on the mattress as well, still holding her calm smile. “Mattresses belong on the beds. And I’m _sure_ that these dorms are some of the safest in—”

“Ah, mm-mm. Nope.”  He shook his head far too long, jaw wobbling. “I got Roadie here for the safety bit.” He jerked his thumb at Roadhog’s stomach. “And I ain’t never slept in a proper bed—or I don’t _think_ I have. Point is, I got it all planned out up here.” He tapped his skull with one blackened nail. “Here’s how it’s gonna be: I’m gonna shove me cot in the floor here,” he explained, pointing into Roadhog’s dorm. “And then I’m gonna fortify this here door, with a couple of booby traps.”

“But—”

“Hang on, hang on: here’s the best part.” He giggled again. “ _This_ is gonna be me workshop from now on! A whole workshop to myself, and Roadie won’t even get to come inside!” Roadhog didn’t seem particularly angry by this apparent exclusion. “Well, maybe sometimes, like on your birthday or somethin’. But not every day, mate. I can’t work with you breathin’ down my neck.” He wiggled his fingers excitedly. “Ooh, when I think of all the experiments I can—”

“I’m afraid I can’t let that happen.” Ana shook her head firmly. “We can’t have an undocumented ballistics lab in the living quarters. Especially not one with… booby traps.”

“Now _listen here,_ ya old hag! Where am I supposed to make more weapons if I can’t have me lab?!”

“You can share the on-base laboratory like everyone else,” she replied briskly.

“Sha—now wait just one damn minute!” He scowled, crossing his arms and throwing his nose in the air. “Junkers do not _share_ anything! We have been known to _split_ things, but never _share_. It’s… it’s against our religion.”

“What religion?”

“The—the Junker religion! No sharing!” he repeated stubbornly, stomping his peg. “Tell ‘er, Roadie!”

“….”

“There, ya see? Bet’cha can’t argue with _that_!”

“You’re right. I won’t. Because you’re not having a lab down here.”  Perhaps no one had ever been stern with him before. Perhaps it was just that he hadn’t expected her to keep up the argument, or perhaps he’d just been looney enough to think that she’d accept silence in lieu of a debate from Roadhog. No matter what the case, Junkrat recoiled in shock and fell silent for a—admittedly short—moment. He looked from her to the mattress, bushy brows furrowing.

“But—” he managed after a moment, trying his best to make a solid argument in his favor.

“I assure you that our facilities here are some the best in the world. We once had top scientists here—we still do,” she admitted, “—though I’m afraid their numbers have… diminished. But one thing’s for sure: it’s a hell of a lot safer than anything you can cook up behind _that_ door.”

 “Look, I ain’t used to workin’ with—er—others. I like my explosions to be a _surprise_ , y’know? I love it when they don’t know what him ‘em, and it was me! Ha-ha!”

“How about I show you the lab?” she offered, ignoring his protests. “I’m sure that once you see it, you’ll change your mind about this workshop. Would you like to come too, Roadhog?”

“….”

“What?! Roadie, don’t take _her_ side! She’s drawin’ ya in, mate!”

“….”

“But—oh, _c’mon_ —we had a _plan_!”

“….”

“Give a rat a break! I’ll even say please and everything!”

 “….”

“Oh— _Fine._ ” He crossed his arms, slumping in defeat. “Alright, whatever. Show us the lab. But _then_ I’m comin’ _straight_ back and making myself a proper workshop!”

* * *

Gibraltar’s laboratory was almost empty, its lone occupant cheerfully watching weather data light up in colorful patterns that were indecipherable to anyone else. The screen blinked and waved, throwing her tiny form into profile as she swayed to and fro, humming one of Lúcio’s newest tunes under her breath. She had her back turned to the door, too wrapped up in her data to notice that she had visitors.

Junkrat’s eyes fell almost immediately to her swaying hips, following them like a metronome and stopping dead in his tracks. Ana prodded him on ahead of her, tactfully ignoring his gaze wandering over her form; she knew enough of Junkers to realize that the boy had grown up with no one teaching him the first thing about manners.

“Good afternoon, Mei!” she called out, pulling the young woman from her reverie. “Have you met our newest recruits yet? They’re from Australia; I’m sure they could tell you a lot about the weather down under.”

“Oh!” She stopped bouncing along to her own beat, and Junkrat’s eyes snapped forward as she turned, patting her hair and checking her pin. “I hav—” Her bright smile fell almost immediately, eyes widening first in shock, then horror, then aversion. If Roadhog noticed, he didn’t comment; Junkrat’s eyes were locked on her chest now, eyeballing what he could see of her figure around the thick padding of her coat. “I-I-I—” she stammered, startled gaze taking in Roadhog’s gas mask. “I—er—” She glanced down at Junkrat’s peg leg, then his real, taped one. “Haven’t—uh—had the pleasure?” She schooled her expression into something civil, if not polite.

“Then I will introduce you.” Ana stepped between them, snapping to get Junkrat’s attention. The man twitched, licking where drool had begun to pool in the corner of his mouth. “This is Junkrat,” she said, pointing to him. He stared, mouth agape, nearly trembling in his boot. “And _this_ is Roadhog.”

“….”

“Boys, this is Miss Mei-Ling Zhou. She’s our resident climatologist—one of the scientists I was telling you about earlier?” Neither one of them acted as if they’d heard her, but she continued nevertheless. “Mei does excellent work for Overwatch. Her weather science is helping to save millions of lives all over the globe.”

“ _Uhh_ ….”

“…..” Ana cleared her throat, looking to Mei. Her mouth worked wordlessly, and then she cleared her throat before offering her—unfortunately unmittened—hand.

“ _N-Nǐ hǎo_ ; It’s— _nice_ —to meet you both.” She held her hand first to Roadhog with a small bow, the smile freezing on her face. He didn’t shake it and she faltered, lips tightening before the amicable expression threatened to slip from her face entirely. Giving up, she closed and opened her fist before turning to Junkrat. “I’m sure… we’ll… work great together?” Junkrat continued to stare, though thankfully it was at her face. Their eyes met, soft brown gazing directly into harsh, preternatural orange; a blush began to creep along his cheeks, barely visible beneath the dirt. She looked helplessly at Ana, who poked him in the spine. He coughed, coming to life as Mei broke the eye contact.

“Too right!” he squeaked, coughing again before pointing to her hand sheepishly. “Ah—er—ya mind switchin’ hands on me, darl—I mean Mei—I mean… Miss Zhou?” he asked Ana, grimacing. She arched one brow but didn’t answer, leaving him floundering. He giggled nervously, unused to minding his manners in front of anyone. “I—uh, it’s just that me hand’s a bit of a shocker if you’re not ready for it. Metal’s cold, y’know.” He offered his left hand instead, trying to grin.

“I think you’ll find that our Mei isn’t bothered by the cold,” Ana laughed. “In fact, she’s become somewhat of an expert in it.”

“A cold expert, eh? Can’t say that about meself—personally, I _hate_ the cold! But—I mean—if _you_ like it—that is—er—” Mei took pity on him and switched hands, awkwardly shaking with her left. Their bare fingers met and he jolted, everything from his hair down seeming to come alight. She pried her hand from his a moment later, wiping it as discreetly as possible on her coat.

“If your hand gets cold—it looks a little outdated,” she said matter-of-factly, trying to make _some_ kind of polite conversation. “And your leg, too—is that a _bedspring_?” Her nose wrinkled and she looked uncomfortable. “You know, maybe you speak to the doctor about—”

“Whoa, whoa—no docs, dar—er, Miss Mei.”

“But there are so many better—”

“Wha—no, no, no: listen. This right here?” He seemed to forget his nerves, throwing an arm around her shoulders. She visibly stiffened, eyes widening as she cringed away from the touch of his bare chest. He followed, nose to nose as he brandished the arm, turning it this way and that to catch the light. She grimaced at the sight of the rusty rivets, the expression growing with each metallic clank of his fingers. “This here is _top tier_ arm tech, snowflake.”

“S-s-snow—” He ignored her, holding up three fingers with a rusty clank.

“I know at least _four_ people in Junkertown who’d love to get their grubby mitt on me arm. That’s why Roadie’s here, to keep it where it belongs: on me.”

“Is that so?” They seemed locked in an odd sort of limbo now, her spine protesting as he continued to loom over her, grinning wildly. She firmly put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back as best she could. “Well, Mr. Junkrat—”

“Call me Jamie—”

“J—no—”

“Fine, _Jamison_ if you’re one for particulars. But still, this arm here? You’ve no idea of the things it can do.” He winked at her, wiggling his brows. “ _So_ many things.”

“Is that _so_?” she repeated, pink splotches appearing on her cheeks as she grew irritated.

“Oh, it’s so. It’s _so_ -so. So. So, uh—you got a boyfriend, darl?” Her eyebrows jumped, the smile fading to a scowl.

“No.” She took a deep breath before pushing with all her might, forcing him off her and nearly sending him into the lab bench. “I’m _not_ interested, either. And my name is _Mei._ Not snowflake, and not _darl_.” She made a sound of disgust, staring down at the grime now covering her coat. She brushed at the soot, only to work it further into the fabric. “ _Eww_ ….”

“Not interested? That’s just ‘cause you ain’t—don’t move.” She looked up to find him staring over her shoulder, eyes wide and dilated. Ana took a step forward, reaching out to him.

“What?”

“Don’t—” He coiled, eyes flashing as he snarled, using his peg leg as a springboard. Mei squealed in surprise as Ana yanked her out of the way, knocking her glasses askew. Junkrat came crashing to the ground a moment later, writhing on the tile; the sound of scraping metal mixed with a flurry of alarmed beeps. “ _Gottem_! Roadie, get me frags, I wanna strap this ‘un down _good_! Thought you could sneak up on this lovely lady, did’ja? Little—” He rolled, pinioning the wigging ball of metal. For a moment, the other three stared at him; then, as the robot sent out its second, more frantic distress call, Mei screamed.

“ _Snowball_!”

“Roadie! Frags, now! Or dynamite, that’s always good—just hurry, mate!”

“What are you _doing_?!” Mei shouted, rushing over to him. Her hands clawed at his metal one, trying to make him release the little robot. It beeped at her in a panic, warning signs flashing alongside strings of Chinese. Junkrat growled, redoubling his efforts to get a solid grip as it fought him for freedom. “Let go!”

“I’m saving your life, darl!” he grunted, real leg twisting up to hold her at bay. “What are _you_ doing?! This _bot_ ,” he snarled, spitting the word like a curse, “—was trying to sneak up on ya! Quit—lemme go!” He snapped at her hands with his teeth, shoving his shoulder between her and the robot. “Have ya gone insane!?”

 “Junkrat!” Ana stepped forward, speaking in her sternest tones. “Junkrat, let it go!” Roadhog said nothing, though his hand hovered over his hook.

“No way, nan! I’m not letting this little sneak go through with its plan—and you said the lab was safe! Ha! Ow!” He coughed as Snowball began to headbutt him in the stomach, the little wings on its head flapping and trying to throw off his hands.

“That _bot_ is my friend!” Mei, desperate at this point, gave up on his hand and instead grabbed two fistfuls of his hair. She let go immediately with a sharp cry of pain, staring in shock at her blistering palms. “Oh my gosh! You’re on fire!” she screeched. “You burned me!”

“What?! Oh, yeah, it happens sometimes—stop _squirmin_ ’, ya little—nothing a little spit won’t fix! Here, gimme your hands— _ROADIE_!”

“ _Ugh_!” She jerked away at the mere mention of body fluids. Snowball continued to blare its distress signal.

“Junkrat!” Ana exclaimed, torn between heading for assistance or stepping in herself. “This is the last time I’m telling you— _let go_!”

“No way! Not until I blow this bot back to the scrapyard!” Mei let out a choked sob, but when she raised her head, her face was alight with anger.

“ _I. Said. Sōngshǒu_!” With one solid move, her snowboot collided with his stomach, expertly wedged between Snowball and his belt. They separated with a clatter, Snowball wobbling into the air while Junkrat skidded along the tile, leaving streaks of gray. “Snowball! _Nǐ méishì ba_!?” Snowball beeped an affirmative, complete with little hearts. Soot fell like snow from its form as it fell forward, cuddling into her coat. She wrapped her arms around it protectively, holding it the way one might hold a beloved pet.

 “ _Oww_ ,” Junkrat groaned. He curled on his side, both hands clutching his stomach. “Hooley dooley, that was a good hit,” he muttered. “Might’a even ruptured something.”

“It serves you right, you—you big bully!” Mei held Snowball carefully, shielding it from the Junker’s sight. “You left me no choice! It was either that, or freeze you!”

“Mei….” Ana touched her on the shoulder. “Calm down.”

“I hate bullies like you, picking on things just because you think you can! How did it feel to be picked on by someone your own size?!” Junkrat rolled up until he was sitting, legs splayed as he looked down at the red mark on his abdomen. He prodded it with one finger, checking to make sure nothing bulged that didn’t need to, before looking up at her.

“You’re not my size, darl.” He tilted his head. “You’re a mite smaller than me.” He composed himself before leaping to his feet, sizing her up with a grin. “Yeah, _definitely_ smaller.”

“That’s not the point!” A guilty wince passed over her face when she saw the defined impression of her boot print on his skin. “I-I’m sorry for hurting you, but Snowball is my _friend_. Never touch it again! And if you do—I’m going to—to—” she trailed off, mouth working as she tried to think of a proper threat.

“Sorry?!” He laughed, slapping his knee. “What’dya mean, _sorry_!? That was the best hit anyone’s given me—well, except when Roadie knocked me into the quicksand that one time. You and me oughta spar more often, snowflake.” He eyed her chest again appreciatively. “Yeah… spar….”  

“No way! I don’t like fighting!” She protested loudly. “I only did that because—”

“D— _Don’t_ _like fighting!?_ ” His mouth fell open. “Roadie, are you _hearin’_ this?” He shook his head, advancing on her quickly despite having to limp along on his peg. “You’re wasting your potential, darl!” Mei backed away with a gasp, putting Ana between her and the Junkers. Snowball beeped threateningly, buzzing the closer he tried to get. Her eyes narrowed and she frowned, though it looked more like frustrated pouting at this point.

“That’s just what a no-good bully would think. There’s more to life than fighting. I want to bring _peace_ to the world.”

“Yeah, fat chance _that’ll_ happen.” She gasped, her face scrunching in wounded anger.

“You—stay away from me!” She drew up to full height, angry tears glimmering in her eyes before she turned, putting the lab bench between them and grabbing a notepad. “I have lots of important work to do, so if you please— _go away_.”

“But—the lab—”

“Okay.” Ana grabbed his arm, tugging him from the room with a sigh. “Goodbye, Mei. We’ll leave you alone now; sorry about that.”

“That’s alright, Ana.”

“I’ll make sure someone cleans up in here.”

“No, I’ll do it. Thank you.” She waited until they were gone before letting out a deep breath. “Snowball… what was Winston thinking?” she asked, shaking her head. “They’re—he’s crazy! How can _they_ help us?” Snowball beeped in confusion. “I don’t know either.” She frowned at the streaks on the floor.

“Uncultured bullies… and _dirty_ ones, at that.”

* * *

“Hey, the lab!” Junkrat scuttled along beside her, looking over his shoulder as the doors closed behind them. “I thought—”

“Maybe it’s better if you _do_ have a private workspace of your own,” she conceded. “I’ll talk to Jack about it later. Right now, I’m sure you’d like to do more settling in.”

“Wait just a minute!” He shook his arm free. “Maybe I changed me mind! Maybe I want to work in there now, with her!” Ana stared at him a moment.

“I’ll talk to Jack later,” she repeated to Roadhog. He gave a short nod, followed by something breathless and gravelly that she took to be a laugh. “You two don’t make the best first impressions, do you?” The Junkers eyed one another.

“….”

“Now how was _I_ supposed to know that it was _her_ stinkin’ bot?!” Ana shook her head at them in a motherly way, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“Mei is one of the sweetest girls on base, and yet somehow you’ve managed to get on _her_ bad side. Dear… this doesn’t bode well.”

“She’s crazy! Absolutely conked in the head, mate!” Junkrat seemed to have not heard her, still chattering to Roadhog. “Any girl what voluntarily hangs out with bots _must_ be cuckoo,” he bemoaned sadly, dragging his peg behind him with an awful scraping sound.

“….”

“Right. But… on the other hand—” He rubbed his chin. “What a fighter! And she ain’t bad-lookin’ at all really. You ever see a woman like her? She looks all soft and cuddly, like one of them there Pachi-machis of yours. I bet she’s _real_ comfy and cozy, if you curl up on her tits.”

“Junkrat!” Ana admonished sharply.

“Oops! Sorry, forgot there was a lady present.” He laughed raucously. “But anyway, a real looker, huh?  A bit of a wowser, but I can look past that; I’m a man of high values, after all.” 

 “….”

“Junkrat, I highly suggest you take her advice and leave her alone.” Ana frowned. “We don’t tolerate sexual harassment in the workplace, and it was clear that she is uninterested in you.”

“Oh, that’s what she _said_ , but she’ll come around! It’s only ‘cause she don’t know me yet. I’m gonna think up some real _cool_ one-liners to steal her heart. Somethin’ to _blow_ her away, y’know? Get it? Blow?” He elbowed Roadhog, heedless of the fact that his partner had already tuned him out. “She’s…” He rubbed his stomach, eyes going unfocused and dreamy. “Wow… she’s top notch. Really somethin’ else. I gotta get to know her better. What a gal, that—er, what was her name again?” Ana made to answer, but to her amazement Roadhog spoke up in a deep, guttural rasp.

“…Mei.”

“Right… Mei.” He slapped his metal fist against his palm. “Gotta make sure I don’t forget that one. Won’t do to call her the wrong name when we go a-courtin’. Mei. Mei. _Mei_.” He continued to repeat it the rest of the day, and long after his companion had bedded down for the night.

 _“_ My _Mei_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> First Impressions… get it? Because it’s Mei’s first impression of him, and her boot left an impression on his stomach… (please give me a pity laugh)


End file.
